


The Lucky Ones

by Dragomir



Series: Stocks [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, Psychological Trauma, Public Sex, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ones who could have protected Dorian - where were they, and what were they doing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cullen

**Author's Note:**

> There is no happiness here. And everyone blames themselves.

He stands at the edge of the platform, top of the stairs, facing the crowd. One hand on the pommel of his sword, the other behind his back and clenched in a fist. He doesn’t want to _be_ here. He wants to be somewhere, _anywhere_ else. If he closes his eyes, it’s Kirkwall again and Alain is dodging questions. If he closes his eyes, it’s Kinloch Hold and he doesn’t understand the rules but you aren’t supposed to interfere when the other Templars are _punishing_ mages… If he keeps his eyes open, it’s still Skyhold and it’s so much _worse_.

The commander hears a muffled sob and a whimpered prayer in Tevene. The prayer is cut off by a harsh grunt and a wet slap of flesh against flesh. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend that he doesn’t care about one more mage.

 _He does not care._ He _cannot_ care. He must follow the Inquisitor’s orders and keep things in order. No matter his personal feelings, he is sworn to obey the Inquisitor; all he wants to do is rip the stocks open and rip the mag…no. He wants to open the stocks and wrap Dorian in his cloak and just take him _away_. But he is sworn to the Inquistion, to the Inquisitor, and he must follow orders. He will keep the peace.

If he closes his eyes, he can see all the mages he didn’t help.

He keeps them open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I lied. Cullen was there. And it's safe to say he hates himself for it.


	2. Vivienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she doesn't look, it's not real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today sucked for various reasons, which means this fic updated!

She is a Knight Enchanter, a Loyalist, and the head of the circle in Montsimmard. She is the leader of the last loyal mages. She is everything the Chantry demands she be. Even were she not, she would _still_ hate Tevinter and everything the Imperium stands for, and everything that comes part and parcel of that – the alti, the magisters, the Magisterium, and their _male_ Divine. The _Black_ Divine. She hates Dorian, the altus mage from a Tevinter noble house. He’s an arrogant prat, far too confident for his own good and due to be knocked down a few pegs. She has wanted to see him knocked down those pegs since she first met him.

But…not like _this_.

If she keeps reading, if she doesn’t look and she ignores the noise, everything is _fine_. If she doesn’t look, if she doesn’t hear, there is _nothing_ happening in the courtyard. It’s not real. If she doesn’t see, doesn’t hear, and does not _think_ about it, the scene in the courtyard is not _real_. If she looks, if she thinks, if she hears what is happening in the courtyard, everything becomes real. The sobs and pleading are not distant memories from her first years in the Montsimmard Circle, when the Templars took anyone they wanted. The sobs become _real_ , the pleading, the broken common and garbled Tevene become _real_ , and a man she hates but might be a friend is down in that courtyard. If she stops pretending, the stocks become real. The Inquisitor’s depravity becomes _real_. All the anguish and hurt and suffering becomes _real._

It is best to ignore this, so that it is not real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, they're all so wonderful in their denials, aren't they?


	3. Cassandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is not _hiding_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Cassandra enters the picture.

She is not _hiding_. _Hiding_ implies that there is something to be hidden from. _Hiding_ implies that she is not strong enough to face her fears. Or, for that matter, things that make her choke on bile rising in her throat. So no, she is not _hiding_. She’s…practicing. With her training dummies. That she put in her room. Out of sight. She’s working on her form. …In her room. Alone.

She is a Pentaghast, a princess of Nevarra, the daughter of dragon-slayers, and the last Seeker of Truth. She does not hide from her problems or from that which makes her ill. She faces her fears and what angers her head on, and she does. _not. **hide**._

What she is doing is not _hiding_ , it is a matter of prudence. She is one person, and she cannot take on an entire army single-handedly. There is a limit to her abilities, and…and she cannot use them to save _one_ person. So, she is in her room, practicing her swordplay. It is not _hiding_. Not when there is _nothing_ she can do.

Of note is the fact that the dummies she is working on beheading are all wearing the same set of clothing, scrounged from a maid’s basket of mending. If anyone sees the tan uniforms or the fitting-model uniform for the Winter Palace on her dummies, well, that’s _their_ problem. She needs to have a visual reference for an enemy, and this clothing was in need of mending anyways. What are a few more gouges?

When the screaming reaches her ears, she roars out a battle challenge so she doesn’t have to _listen._ If she doesn’t listen, it’s not happening, and she’s not decapitating the Inquisitor in effigy. Not that she is, of course, because that would be unseemly.

Dorian snipes at her constantly. He is arrogant, occasionally (rarely) cruel, a mage from Tevinter, and possibly a blood mage – he is _everything_ she is supposed to loathe. And yet, she cannot. Not now, not again. Perhaps never again.

She is a Seeker of Truth. She is a Pentaghast. She has been raised, all her life, to be a protector when others fall, a guardian of the weak, a voice for those who have none.

She is not hiding.

She can do nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's safe to say that Cassandra regrets saving the Inquisitor at this point.


	4. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he drinks enough, maybe his hands will stop shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric's up, and it's not much better.

He sits in the tavern and drinks. It’s the best thing to do in a situation like this, when nothing you do will do anything but make it worse for everyone involved. The line of mugs on the table is testament to that. He’s drinking because he can’t help and it’s the only way to keep himself from _trying_ to help. The rest of the dwarves in Skyhold – Cabot the bartender, perky Dagna who’s not so cheerful right now, a few of the scouts, and Scout Harding who is unusually somber – have joined him. They all know what happens when the big guys decide to punish the little guys. Cabot’s a casteless exile. He’s a surfacer. Dagna wanted to study magic and was exiled for it. Scout Harding’s a surfacer, born and bred. The scouts are a mix of surface-born and exiles. But all of them _know_ what happens when someone important decides to punish the little guy.

If they drink enough, they might be able to stop their hands shaking. They all know what happens if someone interferes.

The writer keeps an arm wrapped around thin, shaking shoulders and keeps the boy who might as well be his son close. The boy wants to help. Everyone at this table wants to help. They’re making sure they’re too drunk to move, but none of them can stop flinching every time they hear a scream or a noise like a wounded animal. They’ll keep an eye on the boy he’s keeping an eye on. If he goes to help, who knows what will happen to him? Will he be put up next to…next to…to… The thought trails off and Varric gives a full-body flinch as another wounded-animal scream reaches into the tavern.

There is no mercy when the big guys decide the little guys need to be punished.

He can’t help. None of them can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That should answer at least two questions, not counting the rage-induced ones.


	5. Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's too much pain and he can't _help_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole is a precious little puppy who wants to help people.

There is so much _pain_. It screams around inside his head, getting louder and reverberating in his mind and it won’t _stop_. He can’t untangle it or make it better or make everyone _forget_ and he can’t _help_ and Varric isn’t letting him help…

Varric’s pain is screaming inside him too and Cole can’t untangle that either because it’s too much and loud and bright and it’s not right but he can’t fix it and it hurts more when he can’t make it stop but he can’t go out because that makes Varric’s hurt _worse_ when he tries to get up…

He shakes and clasps his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise in any way he can. Pain is thrumming deep in his chest and his bonesand sinks in behind his teeth in such an ache but it all blurs together and _screams_ and keeps him from blocking anything out. He’s not even sure if he’s screaming or if it’s someone else’s pain or if there is screaming outside.

He can’t make it stop. If he tries to make it stop, he’ll get hurt as well and so will Varric because Varric didn’t stop him and he knows what the Inquisitor thinks about doing to the Chargers and the Iron Bull if _they_ interfere and he’s scared because he doesn’t know what to do or how to make it stop and it _hurts_.

Tears pour down his face when the pain reaches far past the point of agony.

Why can’t anyone help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone give the poor boy a hug...


	6. Blackwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a bloody coward, is what he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall thinks he could have been a hero.

He is an honorable man. He is a _good_ man. He can be a _decent_ man.

…He’s a bloody coward, is what he is. He’s not good. He’s not honorable. He’s just pretending – _was_ pretending – to be a man who _was_ good, and decent, and honorable, and a bloody fucking _hero_. He’s just _him_ , and he’s a fucking _coward_.

If he were _really_ Warden Blackwall, he’d charge in, swords drawn, and rescue Do…the mage. He’d invoke the Right of Conscription, save the bo…the _mage_ from his punishment, take him to Weisshaupt or Amaranthine or _anywhere_ that the Inquisition couldn’t reach. But he’s a bloody fucking coward, and he’s not a Warden, and he’s not helping Dor… _the mage_.

Instead, he’s hiding out in the barn, trying to carve. His hands are shaking too much to do anything, and he stares numbly at a block of wood sitting on the table. He’s a bloody coward. He’s a fucking _coward_ , and he can’t go help one bloody mage. He and Do… _the mage_ don’t get along, but they’ve got something of a truce. The mage is a good sort. He’s not a bad person. Not intentionally, anymore, anyways. He’s the kind of person who would make a _great_ Warden.

But instead of helping, instead of mounting a rescue, he’s sitting on a wooden chest and trying to carve something with shaking hands while he hears the bo…the _mage’s_ screaming in the courtyard.

He should have done more. He should have done _something_. Instead, he’s sitting on a locked wooden chest and praying to Andraste and the Maker that Do…the b….the _mage_ passes out.

He wonders if someone will have the decency to cut Do…

He prays that someone grants Dorian mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But at least he admits that he's a bloody coward, right?


	7. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she repeats it enough, it'll be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sera really is a sweetheart, once you get down to it.

Mages are evil and need to be controlled. They summon demons and shite. They’re evil. They tear great big holes in the sky. Mages need to be kept locked up.

Dorian’s screams drift through her window.

Mages are evil and need to be controlled. If no one controls them and keeps an eye on them, they muck everything up. They hurt the little people. They’re evil. They have to be controlled so they don’t… So they don’t… So they… So… She curls up in a tighter ball and stuffs her fist in her mouth to muffler her own cries. Mages are evil and need to be controlled. Mages are evil and need to be controlled.

If she repeats it enough, it’ll be true about Dorian too. She _has_ to make it true so it stops hurting. She has to make it true so she doesn’t get her bow and shoot him through the open window because he’s hurt, he’s being hurt, and he’s not th… _Mages are evil and have to be controlled_. She bites down on her fist and screams.

Dorian’s screams turn to high-pitched, wounded-animal noises and don’t stop.

If nobody controls mages, they summon demons and muck things up and…and…and… Mages are evil. They need to be controlled. If she keeps repeating it, she can make it true and she won’t think about how far it is to the stocks. If it’s true, she won’t think about where she needs to aim to kill her _best_ mage friend quickly. Dorian isn’t her friend! He’s a mage, and he’s evil and he’s from Tevinter and everyone knows mages from Tevinter are all evil and cackle and they like mucking things up for _everyone_.

If she keeps repeating it, it’ll be true and she can hate Dorian and what’s happening in the… That’s not right. Dorian is her friend. He’s a mage and he makes jokes and she’s seen him slipping food to orphans in villages and he pets the castle kittens and makes stupid faces at them and he’s stood up for her and it’s not a trick or anything but that’s just how he is and…

And what’s happening to him isn’t _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something tells me that the Inquisitor will not survive Sera's wrath after this...


	8. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could make one more thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Dorian are grudging best friends and no one can tell me otherwise.

He will not be sleeping in Skyhold again. He knows he won’t be able to – not after this. (Not when he knows that it could just as easily have been himself down there…) He _does_ wonder, though, if the Inquisitor had _ever_ been a decent person, or if being given so much power had been the catalyst for such boundless cruelty to leak through at last. Now… No, he does not think he will sleep or dream within the bounds of Skyhold again. He has never enjoyed the company of the creatures who frequent sites like this one.

Demons who feed on cruelty and lust… There are even demons of despair who will creep into this place now, to sate their curiosity about such an event. This place will be a _banquet_ for them, when once it had been hidden from their gaze.

The apostate’s hands shake as he prepares potions. There will be a need for them, after. Healing potions, tonics, salves and poultices for physical wounds, a potion for dreamless sleep…

He drops his knife and buries his face in his hands. As faint as it is, he can hear Dorian’s screams here, in his private space. The ravens, two decks above him, are almost loud enough to drown them out, but his hearing is far too good at distinguishing noises. He is grateful for the loud cacophony the ravens are causing; it almost drowns out Dorian’s screaming. He might argue constantly with the other mage, might needle him and prod at chinks in the boy’s armor, do his best to crush the boy’s worldview on certain matters but never, _never_ would he have wished this on him. No.

It could have been him, out there, instead of Dorian.

He returns to preparing the potions. They will be needed. As he corks the last bottle, he hesitates and eyes the deathroot on his desk. He might have enough time for one more thing… Just one. It would be painless. Quick. He’s been told that drinking this one is like falling asleep after a long day.

Solas grabs his knife and begins slicing deathroot. He can make just one more thing.

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He has the best intentions, I swear.


	9. Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition must run smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josephine's dedication to her work is admirable, to say the least.

There are matters that must be attended to – diplomatic functions to arrange, ruffled feathers to soothe, messages to write. It is her… She… She must make sure the Inquisition runs smoothly. That is her job. She needs to soothe ruffled feathers and arrange diplomatic functions and keep people from asking awkward questions.

There is a stack of papers on her desk, reports from her ladies and her contacts. She needs to draft replies. When she finally puts the fresh stack of parchment on her desk, she stares at it for half an hour – long enough for her tea to cool.

She must make sure the Inquisition runs smoothly.

The life and dignity of one Tevinter mage… She must… She has to… Josephine curses and splashes ink on the parchment to cover her outburst. She has to make sure the Inquisition runs smoothly, and she doesn’t _want_ to. She wants… She…

Dorian’s screams are loud enough to reach her. Josephine drops her quill and buries her face in her hands when the pitch breaks and his voice fades away again. She has to make sure there is a suitable explanation for this. There are allies in Tevinter that she will lose because of this. They will not like what has happened to one of their own, even if they mislike Dorian’s…affections. She could weather the loss of her contacts if it meant Dorian were… If he were not…

The Inquisitor knows many fine diplomats. Josephine knows she is not irreplaceable. If she wishes to shield Dorian – should he survive this, and she hates herself for praying someone takes pity and kills him – she will need to stay in Skyhold. She swallows her revulsion and her thoughts of gutting the Inquisition from the inside out, and sends her servant for a fresh pot of tea. A service for two, with lots of sharp ginger and cinnamon. She’s going to draft a _lot_ of letters today.

The Inquisition must run smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josephine fights with her words, not her fists. She'll get the job done.


	10. Leliana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her faith brought her here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guess who has been attempting to interact with the rest of humanity and also got stuck at work... I swear, I did not abandon this series, life happens and it _sucks_.

She is too high for the noise to reach her. The echoes do. She is not high enough in her tower, or far enough away for the echoes to fade before reaching her. Even the raucous noise of her ravens can’t block out the echoes of screaming, the wounded-animal noises. If she strains her hearing, she can hear the jumbled Tevene pleading mixed with the wounded-animal screams.

She is a spymaster. She should be cold, ruthless, and uncaring. She was the Divine’s Left Hand. She should be colder, more ruthless, more uncaring than everyone under her command. She is the one who should be cold.

She is cold. She is ruthless. She is uncaring. She _must_ be all three, or there can be… The pained-animal whimpering echoes even up to her tower. Her birds cannot block it out. Ten years away from the Hero of Ferelden and their boundless, disgusting _happiness_ about _everything_ has made her bitter and cold. The Hero of Ferelden had been her friend, had seen her through many trials and told her that her faith was _worth_ something. And now… Now, she is not so sure that they were right. Her faith brought her to the Inquisition. It made her trust in the Inquisitor, tell them things when they asked for a report. So easy, at the time, to look and remember the Hero of Ferelden and how _good_ they had been, despite what the world wanted to do to them. So easy, to watch those lines blur and blind her. Her faith brought her here.

Her faith… Dorian’s pained animal noises reach her again.

She needs to write a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, and then I move on to the next story, as the muse strikes.


	11. The Chargers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have never broken a contract before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chargers get a very important letter.
> 
>  
> 
> So, I am incredibly lazy and got caught at work and spending time with my oldest sister and completely forgot about this. _But_ , now that my internship/work is over and I'm heading home, so here's the last chapter.

Grim catches the raven first and, since it is addressed ‘The Bull’s Chargers’ and not destined for Bull or anyone else specifically, he takes it – and remembers to slip the raven a few shreds of raw meat so it doesn’t nip his fingers – and cracks the seal on the missive. The ribbon is distinctive – one of Leliana’s, even if the seal is the Inquisitor’s (miserable old… Well. Yes). He reads the signature and nods, satisfied that it is, in fact, from Lady Nightingale. Then he reads the missive. He rereads it five times, words sinking into his brain and starting to _burn_. “ _CHIEF_!” He doesn’t speak often, and he _never_ yells, so when he does both, people _notice_.

Dalish and Skinner, attached at the hip whenever they reach camp and nigh inseperable anywhere else, take the letter from him. They almost rip it in their haste to learn what contents could make their normally taciturn comrade speak – _bellow_. Dalish is left gaping, mouth opening and closing like she can’t figure out what to say as Skinner reads the letter for her. Skinner’s own face slowly turns darker and darker and she crumples the letter in her hands.

“Filthy shem _bastards_!” she hisses. “They… The… Filthy shem bastards! I’ll kill them!” Dalish squeezes her shoulder and locks eyes with Grim. It is less telling Skinner to calm down, and more a reassurance that they will be with her when she goes on her rampage.

Rocky eases the letter out of Skinner’s hands and reads it out loud for Stitches, who is trying to finish a poultice. The bottle shatters in his hands when he grips it far too tightly, as though it is a certain Inquisitor’s neck. Rocky’s mustache is quivering and he has the same look in his eyes that he had the first time the Chargers met him: Wild murderous rage, ready to collapse a few tunnels on someone if they sneeze in his direction. In this case, entirely justified. When Stictches looks at him, Rocky says, softly, “We’re going to kill them, right?”

“Yeah,” Stitches agrees, voice taking on an edge reserved for telling off the people bothering his patients. “Yeah. We’re going to kill every last one of them if we have to.” His tone says they’ll find a justification.

Krem takes the letter at last and reads it, eyes scanning rapidly as he takes the information in. Bull’s just getting back to the camp, responding to his boys’ yelling for him – faster than he normally would at their yells, because it was _Grim_ who yelled first. Krem holds the letter out, face tight with worry and pale with anger.

“We’ve never broken contract before,” he says, voice hoarse, eyes alight with anger. “We have _never_ broken contract before.” His hands shake and he refuses to let go of the letter. “Say the word, Chief, and we’ll bring that place down.” His accent is thick, as it is when he is truly angry.

Bull finally gets the letter from his lieutenant and reads it. “Double-time!” he roars. “If it’s replaceable, leave it! We’re going back to Skyhold. _Now_.”

Even with all non-essentials left behind and pushing their mounts as hard as they can, they don’t make it in time. They don’t make it in time. They don’t…

Bull only keeps the red creeping into his vision back because _Dorian needs him_.

“This isn’t _right_ ,” he growls as his boys form a protective ring around him and his ‘Vint. And when Dorian flinches and whimpers at his voice, Bull wonders if this is what going mad feels like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suffice it to say, a lot of people in Skyhold realized just how lucky they were that Bull decided Dorian was more important than immediately ripping them to shreds.

**Author's Note:**

> All right, I lied. Cullen was there. And it's safe to say he hates himself for it.


End file.
